


Asshole in Economy Class

by Arisprite



Series: Little Wishes [7]
Category: xxxHoLic
Genre: Airplanes, Flying Phobia, Gen, M/M, Restauranteer!Watanuki, first meetings au, unrelated to my restaurant au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-04-20 15:44:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4793171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arisprite/pseuds/Arisprite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Watanuki thought he had it. A whole row to himself! But turns out the seat next to him is taken by a blank faced asshole who <i>keeps elbowing him</i>!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Asshole in Economy Class

He really thought he had it. Watanuki sat waiting in the window seat of the airplane, minutes from take off, and he _had the row to himself_. It was amazing, it was unheard of, and he was already fantasizing about lifting up the armrest and spreading his legs out (since they were already getting cramped in the economy class airplane seats. Ugh, why couldn’t he have gotten first class, damn Yuuko. He knew _sh_ would fly in first class herself. 

Then, the unthinkable happened. Some tall, suit clad, annoying bastard came and threw his carry on laptop bag onto the middle seat. The bag hit him in the arm, and everything! The guy - a blank faced Japanese man about the same age as him, probably - leaned up to put his other suitcase in the overhead, and then shifted over _way_ into his space to take a seat right in the middle, like it belonged to him, leaving the aisle seat empty. 

Watanuki was glowering at his lost opportunity to stretch out, while the guy made himself comfortable and lifted two fingers. 

“Yo,” he said, flat and casual. 

Watanuki sighed and leaned on the window, well away from the guys broad shoulders. 

“Yo,” he repeated, satisfied that that was all the interaction he was required to have with the guy. 

The flight attendants moved up and down, and the last few people found their seats, meanwhile Watanuki settled in and tried to get his bag to fit under the seat in front of him, shoving it with his feet, and trying not to elbow the guy next to him. 

Of course, the guy didn’t even try to show the same courtesy. They hadn’t even moved yet, and the man had already elbowed him twice. He hadn’t even said sorry the second time! He was rummaging through his bag, searching for something he _desperately_ needed to have, apparently. His face was expressionless, and he his eyes beady, and damn him he _took up too much room!_

A third bump, and Watanuki hissed at him, at his breaking point. 

“Excuse me!” 

The guy looked at him, with what was probably surprise, but Watanuki couldn’t tell. 

“Mm?” he asked. Barely. Like he wasn’t doing this on purpose! Gah! Watanuki couldn't respond, so the guy shrugged on shoulder, and reached into his bag once more. “Gum?” he offered, holding out a pack of Dentine. Watanuki glared, but took one with a jerk. He hated how planes made his ears hurt, and gum was supposed to help. 

In fact, Watanuki hated planes in general. Especially the take off and the landing. Which was coming up. If only he’d said no to Yuuko, then again, she was offering a new restaurant _in L.A._ to _him_! Watanuki Kimihiro, head chef yes, but no one ever said he was the best. And now he’d get his own _restaurant!_. He was very excited, but the nerves of moving to a new place were warring with the flutter of terror as the plane lurched and began to roll forward.

Watanuki stiffened, rolled down the window shade, so he didn’t have to watch the ground recede, and closed his eyes. 

Only to open them again with a poke to his arm. _Oh my god seriously?_

“What?” Watanuki snapped, glaring over at the only person it could be. The guy was staring at him. 

“Mind if the shade’s open?” he said, blankly. It was _barely_ a question. Watanuki sputtered, and while he was doing that, the damn guy reached across and opened the shade. 

“Wha- wait, _yes_ I _do_ mind!” Watanuki protested, but it lost strength when the plane dipped at the same time that he happened to glance out the window. The horizon fell beneath them, and Watanuki squeaked, grabbed both arm rests, and squeezed his eyes shut. The guy’s arm had been on the rest, and he sensed him move back. 

“What, are you scared of flying?” he asked. 

“No!” Watanuki snapped, and then tensed, head spinning. “Maybe, so what?” 

“You know-” 

“I swear to _god_ , if you’re about to say that dumb statistic, I will throw you out the plane myself!” 

Watanuki felt the guy settle back. 

“Fine,” he murmured, and it was quiet. Quiet enough to hear the planes engines, and the people, and the turbulence as it shuddered over the wings. 

“Shit,” Watanuki hissed, feeling his stomach clench painfully. He’d really underestimated how scared he was of flying. _Why_ hadn’t he brought more distractions?? The light from the window dimmed. The guy had reached over and shut it.

“You really are scared, aren’t you?” said that unwelcome voice. Watanuki opened his eyes and sent him a firey stare. He had hazel-y eyes that were looking at him so blankly that Watanuki wanted to punch him, just to see an expression. 

“Do you have to say that so loud?” he whispered hotly. 

“Do you want to hold my hand?” 

“No!” What kind of question was that?

“Do you want to talk?” 

“Would you-!” Watanuki paused. He did need a distraction, and hey, if this guy wanted to throw himself under the bus, more power to him. “Fine.” 

The guy’s eyebrow went up a millimeter. What a reaction. 

“What do you want to talk about?” 

“I don’t know! It was your idea!” Anything would do, even this fighting. Just not his embarrassing fear of flying. “What’s your name?” he demanded. 

“Doumeki. Doumeki Shizuka.” A very Japanese sounding name, and Watanuki thought he was even introducing himself family name first. He hadn’t met someone who did that in years. Not even Yuuko and she was as Japanese as he was. 

“I’m Watanuki Kimihiro,” Watanuki said, doing the same. Doumeki nodded. 

“Where are you heading?” Well, wasn’t that obvious? The flight’s destination was on both their tickets. 

“L.A. I’m opening a restaurant for my employer.” Watanuki said, not really wanting him to pry or to get the inevitable exclamation of _Wow! You look too young to own a restaurant!_

Doumeki didn’t do that though, just nodded, taking it in. 

“I’m visiting my grandfather. He wants me to take over the family shrine.

Watanuki lifted his eyebrows. 

“Shinto?” he asked, and Doumeki gave him a vague quizzical look, nodding. Watanuki shrugged. “I grew up in Japan.” 

“What brought you to the states?” 

“Got a job.” The truth was closer to the fact that his parents died, and Yuuko took him in and put him to work, and then decided that they both were going to the U.S. to start a restaurant business without his say so. Thank god he was decent at English. “Are you going to take over the shrine?”

Doumeki shrugged. “Don’t know yet.” 

Watanuki didn’t pry. A beat of silence fell, and Watanuki’s fear amped up. Doumeki, damn him, noticed. 

“So, are you a chef?” he asked, then, and Watanuki came out of it and scowled for no particular reason. 

“Yes. I was a head chef for Yuuko, before she sent me out here.”

“Do you like it?” Doumeki asked. The cooking, Watanuki assumed. He blinked at him, startled by the question for some reason. 

“Well-, yes, I like it.”

Doumeki nodded yet again. 

“That’s good.” 

Watanuki looked at him, taken aback at the sudden… was that vulnerability?

“...Why?” Watanuki asked, hesitating. “Do you like what you do?” 

Doumeki was still for a moment. 

“I like history. And getting my teaching degree.” 

So he was a teacher. Or he wanted to be. Impressive. Watanuki was careful as he asked the next question. 

“Not running your grandfather’s shrine?” 

Doumeki was quiet, thinking it appeared, though his face didn’t really change all that much. Watanuki let the silence fall, not nearly as afraid this time. It lengthened, and then Watanuki broke it. Of all people to give unsolicited advice, damn him. 

“I think… you should do what you like to do. It sounds like you’ve worked towards it. But also, sometimes, you don't know what you like to do unless somebody makes you do it.” 

Doumeki was watching him, and Watanuki actually blushed at the depth of those eyes. He couldn’t tell an iota of what Doumeki was thinking. 

“I mean-” 

“Thanks,” Doumeki cut him off. Still hot in the face, Watanuki nodded. The moment passed. 

“So, what kinds of things do you like to cook?” Doumeki asked, and the flight went on. Watanuki yelled more than he ever had at anyone besides Yuuko, even making the neighboring rows glare and hush them, but he had fun too. 

All too soon, the descent turned into a rough bump as the plane found the ground again. And, if this time Doumeki’s hand got in the way of his grab for the arm rest, and if he didn’t let go, because armrests don’t squeeze back, then well, what of it? 

The plane came to a full stop, and Watanuki flushed as he removed his hand from Doumeki’s, but Doumeki didn’t seem to mind, pulling out his phone. 

“Do you want to have a drink? While I’m here in L.A.?”

Watanuki gaped at him, and somehow ended up entering the bastards number into the phone. He sent Doumeki a text (a brief ‘yo’) and then sputtered, as he realized what had just happened. 

“But! That! This doesn’t mean you can get in my space!” he shouted, making little sense, since they’d just been holding hands. “You’re too tall! Bastard!” 

Doumeki leaned away with a finger in the closest ear, but his eyes were smirking. Oh, that’s what an expression looked like on that face. He couldn’t say he minded _that_. 

“Call you tomorrow,” Doumeki said, casually slinging his bag over his shoulder and pulling down the overhead. He brought down Watanuki’s overhead luggage too. “See ya.” 

Watanuki watched him do, remembering almost too late to acknowledge that awful goodbye. 

“And good riddance!” he shouted into the crowd. Doumeki’s stupid tall head and broad shoulders vanished and Watanuki looked down at the phone in his hand. The guy’s number was still up on the screen, and Watanuki realized that one: he’d gotten through a plane ride without a panic attack, and two: he’d also gotten a date. Still a little shocked, Watanuki typed a name into the entry to same the number. 

_Asshole from the plane_.

**Author's Note:**

> Written on an actual plane, when this happened to me. I did not get a date out of it, however!


End file.
